Snow
by tbka
Summary: One Shot: “It never snowed in Konoha: the village of leaves.” As a child Kakashi has a realization thanks to the Third Hokage. .::.R&R please.::.


**Snow**

_**Summary: **One Shot: **"**It never snowed in Konoha; the village of leaves." As a child Kakashi has a realization thanks to the Third Hokage. _

_**Genre: **Drama_

_**Rating: **T_

_**Author Notes: **For all those waiting on an update for my HP fic "Doesn't Remind Me" I'm sorry. But I'm kind of at a writer's block with regards to that story. I'm trying though, I really am! So I've written this in hopes to help break through my writer's block but I don't think it really helped. And besides, I couldn't write on the HP fic until I got rid of this plot bunny. _

_**Disclaimer: **I don't own Naruto so don't sue me! I'm only 15 anyways; you wouldn't get anything but my pointe shoes if you sued me because that's all I own. So if you want smelly, stinky, dead pointe shoes then sue me and you can have them._

_**Update:** Thanks to the reviewer _"GemmaniGirl"_ I fixed the part about Yondaime. See, this is what happens when you write a story without first watching all the episodes or reading all the anime. Oops, oh well. Thanks _GemmaniGirl_ for pointing that out to me, it's been fixed. Oh, and if you have no idea what I'm talking about, then don't worry._

_**Please excuse any grammatical or spelling errors. I tried my best but I'm not perfect and we all know that spell-check doesn't catch everything. Also, I'm not an expert on Naruto and will never claim to be. I tried to stay as close to the timeline and the story as possible but if I made any mistakes then I'm sorry.**_

**Please R&R…Thanks!**

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It wasn't until a couple years later did their deaths really hit home. It wasn't until the rain poured so hard and the temperature became so cold that I really did remember. It wasn't until I saw snow for the first time in my short life did I begin to accept, begin to acknowledge.

It never snowed in Konoha; the village of leaves.

I wonder why today, of all days, was the day that the sky decided to show the beauty of snow to me for the first time. Today, my day: my black day. It was too cold for a sane person to be outside, but then again, I fear I lost my sanity years ago.

I wonder what cruel twist of fate had decided that I should have to suffer so much in such short time. But in times of war it is all too easy to blame mistakes on fate, my mistakes. Mistakes that lead to deaths: deaths that could've been so easily avoided.

My father. My mother. My friend. All deaths that I could've prevented, all deaths I am just starting to acknowledge. Today, years later, is the day I finally grieve, the day I can't pretend anymore. Today; today I'm forced to accept reality and to acknowledge that they're never coming back.

They're never coming back.

That single thought tortures me, tortures me more then I ever thought I single thought would ever torture me. After all the days, weeks, months, and years, of repressing their memory it finally becomes too much for me. I finally break down and let the tears fall.

I understand now why everyone has told me to deal with the pain immediately and not to ignore it. It becomes too painful over the years to ever face it. It has grown, like an infection that never got medicated. You can only ignore it for so long, you can only pretend for so long.

For as long as I can remember I've been raised a ninja, raised a child prodigy. I remember the day I had attained Chuunin rank, at the tender age of six. I remember the proud look on my father's face and the loving words of my mother. What would I give to see their faces again? To hear their voices one last time? Everything. I would give up everything. I swear I would give up the lives of every single person in this village. Is that selfish? Yes.

But I really don't care anymore.

I wonder what my father would've said when I had attained Jounin rank, or when I acquired the Sharingan. Would he have been upset at my mistake? Would he be angry at me for causing Obito's death? Or would he be proud of me for trying to put the mission before my friends and trying to learn from his mistake? It doesn't matter anyways, he wasn't there. He never saw my accomplishments or my mistakes. He was too selfish to stay around for me, a simple child. I must have been too needy. I must have done something wrong. Is it normal to blame myself? It had to be something I did, some mistake I made. If only I had been faster, or stronger, or smarter then maybe he wouldn't have killed himself. Maybe he'd still be around.

I blink, the memorial stone has become a blur of gray. Names molding into names: memories combining with memories. My best friend's name is on this stone because of me. It's always because of me. I wonder how many names on here were caused by my father's mistake?

Father's name isn't on this stone. It doesn't deserve to be. Father disgraced the Hatake name, destroyed my belief in love.

Father ruined my life, destroyed my innocence.

Father deserves to be dead. Father deserved his guilt and his depression.

Do I deserve this? Isn't it wrong to punish others for someone's mistake? My father screwed up, not me. Yet why am I the one frowned upon in this village? Why does everyone act as if I had convinced father to betray Konoha? I did nothing wrong, did I? Maybe my mistakes caused father to doubt himself?

So many questions and no answers. I'm going to go insane like this, if I'm not already.

"Kakashi?"

I didn't flinch at the sound of my name, but I did mentally kick myself for not noticing the presence of the mysterious person earlier. Am I not a Genius? Shouldn't this have become second nature to me by now?

"Kakashi?" The voice whispered. He was beside me now, he sounded worried.

"Sarutobi," I muttered under my breath. God, did I really sound that weak?

I pulled up my mask. I forgot why I had removed it in the first place but it doesn't matter anyways.

Perhaps I should've been more formal. It doesn't matter anyways. It never matters anymore. Words, what are they? A formation of our thoughts? But aren't our thoughts simple words too? Who created words, sentences, languages? Who decided what sound made what word, what word meant what? After all, you can't explain a word without other words. But yet, how would you explain colours to a blind person? Taste to someone who can't taste? Smells to one who can't smell? Or sound to someone deaf?

Too many questions, there is always too many questions.

"Kakashi, did you hear me?"

It was only then did I realize that the Third Hokage had been speaking to me. Am I really so consumed by my own thoughts that I can't comprehend what is going on around me?

What kind of ninja am I?

"Kakashi?" The voice was softer now, warmer, more loving, and...and worried? Almost like my father's; too much like my father's.

Did father miss mother as much as I did? Did he blame her death on himself? Like I blamed his on me?

A hand grabs my shoulder, but it seems so far away: like it's in another universe. It doesn't matter anyways. Is this how father felt before he died? Perhaps I should follow in his footsteps? Perhaps I should simple end it all now, it's not like anything matters anymore. It's not like I matter anymore. It's not like I'll ever become anything. It's not like I'm worth anything. I know that now. If I had been worth something then father would've dealt with his pain and forced himself to live for me. But he didn't, so that must mean that I'm not worth his life, I'm not worth anything to him.

And if I'm nothing to father, then I'm even less than nothing to everyone else in Konoha.

The Third Hokage stands in front of me, both hands on my shoulders. I feel him shaking me slightly, I feel myself shivering. When had I started shivering? I haven't been here that long, have I? Everything seems so blurry, so slow, so unconnected to me. I hug myself, feeling the cold creep up on me. Yet, it doesn't feel cold, it almost feels warm. I welcome the cold, the oddly warm cold. It takes a hold of me, it wraps itself around my mind and it feels like I'm getting dragged down. This probably isn't a good thing; in fact, I know it's not good. I know the cold is numbing me, destroying me, but I no longer have the energy to fight it. I no longer care enough to try and win against this impossible enemy. This coldness that destroys me, this coldness that is really just a manifestation of the emptiness inside of me; the sadness I feel.

"Kakashi!"

Sound seems so far away. I could see Sarutobi kneeling in front of me, shaking me, concerned and worried. I could hear his voice and see his movements but it all seems so far away.

I could see my father, my mother, Obito. They were so much closer, so much clearer. If I went closer would I hear their voices again? Would I feel their love and their pride? Would it be like old times again? I don't know, but it's worth the risk. I slip further away from reality and closer to insanity. It doesn't matter to me; I just want to touch them one more time. I miss them so much more than I thought I did. This feeling, this grief, is so much stronger than I thought it was. I left this too long; I pushed this day away from me for too long. It's going to destroy me. I'm going to die here, today.

And my name would not be on the memorial stone, just like my father. I fail, just like my father.

I feel something hit my cheek; I feel my head snap to the side, I feel the stinging pain. They fade away from sight and the Hokage comes into focus. I'm back again, back to reality, back to life. I blink; the snow mingled with my tears and has blurred my vision. I see the Third Hokage, had he slapped me? Is he allowed to do that? I don't know and I don't care. I want to go back to that blissful cold and see them again but he isn't going to let me. He's shaking me again, harder this time, and calling out my name. I see him raise his hand. Is he going to slap me again? Yes. I see his hand move quickly, sharply, but I raise my left hand and grab his. Effectively stopping the Hokage but in return I feel myself come fully back to reality. I'm not going to be able to go back to the cold again, not with this Hokage here, trying to stop me.

"Why are you doing this?" I choke out between my sobs. He better have a good reason to be here annoying me, stopping me.

"Because I care, because I'm not going to let such a young child die out here in the snow."

"Snow's colder than I thought it would be," It's amazing what can come out of my mouth when I don't think about what I'm going to say.

"How long have you been out here?" Sarutobi asked softly.

I blink, and look up to find the sun, but it's already in the midst of setting. I never realized it was almost dark. I try to remember what time it had been when I first came out here but I couldn't, and that worries me.

"It was raining when I first came here," I finally answer after a few minutes of thought.

"It started snowing almost four hours ago, no wonder you're so confused and sluggish. The cold has affected you more than I thought. You should go to the hospital, or at least somewhere warm."

I blink, it took me a while to make sense of what he was saying. Why is he caring so much? What's so special about me?

"Father loved the bottle more than me in the end," I whisper, shocking myself more than the Hokage. Had I really said that out loud? Why am I doing this? Why am I being so revealing?

I stare at the ground, hands squeezing into fists so tight that my knuckles are turning white. My fingernails digging into my skin. I bit my lip, trying to stop the tears from turning into sobs: trying to prevent my weakness from showing to the Hokage, currently the greatest Shinobi in all of Konoha. I can taste the blood. I wonder what kind of man the fourth Hokage had been. I knew what kind of teacher he had been, but the man he was? I really don't know. If I think long enough I can probably remember multiple times in which he, Yondaime, had shown his true colours to me. But right now I can't remember what kind of person he really was. I can't remember him, Yondaime the person; I can only remember Yondaime the teacher. Why? Why can't I remember Yondaime the person? He died to protect this village, died before I could ever get to really know him. He died in the same battle my mother died in; the battle against the demon. My mom's name was on this memorial stone, so was the Fourth Hokage's. But this Hokage, the Third Hokage, has always put so much effort into speaking to me and trying to understand me. Why?

"I miss them, I miss them all. Mother. Father. Obito. I could've stopped them; I could've paid more attention. I could've not been so stupid and ignorant and naive!" I fall to my knees, hands supporting my shaking body. Tears stinging my eyes, sobs choking my breath. Why is this happening now? After all the years of dealing with this pain why is it forcing itself out now? Here? In front of the Hokage? Why am I losing control now?

"Why are you here! Why have you always tried to understand me! Tried to care for me and protect me! If I'm nothing to my father than why are you trying to pretend that I'm something to you! I'm just a failure! I'm just like my father! WHY!" Why am I losing control like this? I haven't said this much to a single person in years. I have never acted like this. What is wrong with me?

The Hokage kneels down in front of me and lifts my chin up with his cupped hand. I keep my eyes down; I can't look at him now. Not when I'm this weak, this pathetic.

"Because I promised your father; he made me promise to take care of you, back when I tried to help him," I hear the Hokage whisper.

My eyes snap up to stare at Sarutobi, the Third Hokage. One gray and one red eye focus on two brown eyes. Will against will. It's then that I realize my forehead protector is gone. I wonder what happened to it? I can't remember.

"You knew! You knew what he was going to do! Why didn't you stop him! WHY!" I scream, tears streaming down my face, the taste of salt mixes with the taste of blood, "Why did you just let him leave me here?"

"It's not my place to stop those who wish to end their pain. I help those who ask for it and those who will accept it. Your father was stubborn, just like you are, and he wouldn't accept help from anyone. I only wish he had spent his last few weeks with you and not his own sorrow and his alcohol. But what is done is done. He searched me out before and asked me to protect you, to watch out for you and care for you. He would've stayed if he could've, you know that," I could hear the grief in the old man's voice. This was the Third Hokage? A man who was so willing to let another take his own life? It doesn't make sense to me, it never will.

I shift my weight back to my feet and in one quick movement I stand, turn around, and run away. Run away from the pain and the sorrow, run away from myself. I run into the forest, I let the darkness surround me, the coldness drives into me. I know I won't be able to stay out here for much longer. I'm going to die out here, and I accept that. I want that. I welcome death, I don't fear it anymore.

I trip over a root and fall into the small layer of snow. I watch my tears fall and melt the snow beneath me. I hear footsteps behind me; I see the Hokage's feet in front of me. I shake my head in defiance and crawl backwards. I'm not going to stay here and let him baby me; I'm not a child anymore. I'm an adult, a Jounin, a cold-hearted killer. I stand up and attempt to run away again but he grabs my wrist and pulls me towards him.

He hugs me and I feel the warmth of his body soak into mine. I let my body relax and as much as I hate this man I also realize that he's the only one left who still cares for me. He's the only one who still acknowledges me for myself, and not for my father. Is this what love really is? It's been so long that I don't know anymore. I cry into his chest, letting the tears fall and the sobs choke my breath.

After all, I'm still just a child, aren't I?


End file.
